Culture Shocked

Tuesday 16th March 2010, 7.10pm, Frienz Guesthouse, Christchurch, South Island - New Zealand

When you tell people at home that you plan to spend 3 and a half months of your life in South East Asia and Indonesia it tends to raise a few eyebrows, especially from the older generation. Amongst warning me to keep an eye on my wallet and not to wander off anywhere with strange men, the thing that most people over a certain age were keen to tell me is that I should prepare myself for a culture shock. But I was never shocked. I went to those countries because I craved difference, I yearned for things I had never seen, unfamiliar customs, strange languages, untasted food and foreign weather. That's what I was searching for. The real surprise, the jolting shock to my system, has been to return to a culture of familiarity, to come back to the world that used to be real to me, here in Christchurch, on New Zealand's South island.

Christchurch is a picture perfect town. Georgian style whitewashed terracing, neatly trimmed public parks, galleries and museums, river side wine bars, bus stops and cathedrals, charity shops and Irish pubs, picket-fenced, wooden-slatted properties with private mailboxes and smoke billowing chimney stacks. I feel like I'm in Bath, or Leamington, it's your classic British spa town in bright but crisply cold Spring weather - and I was not prepared for this bump back to reality. So shaken were we by this unexpected return to the developed world, Ella and I spent all day yesterday sleeping in coma-like states in our dorm room to recover from the surprise. Having spent 7 hours that morning between 11pm and 6am attempting sleep on the floor of Christchurch airport whilst we waited for the shuttle bus, we were entirely nonplussed and guilt-free about our desire for satisfactory slumber.

Feeling slightly more able to cope today we braced ourselves against the cold and the exorbitant (but still cheaper than London) prices of everything and took a tram ride around the town to bravely explore this strange new land. The thing that has struck me so far is how new everything is. New Zealand is a modern world country but with very few years of human history behind it. The first settlers, the Maoris, arrived only 600 years ago, which in terms of the existence of the human race is a mere blip in the framework of time. As we were snuggled up in fleece and hats and scarves and wool on our quaint little tram today, the driver kept us entertained with rambling, informative commentary. I was particularly entertained when he thought it noteworthy to point out that, 'this fence on the left hand side here folks, it's 80 years old.' Eighty. Years. "Old". What of it mate? So is my Nan. It's quite endearing though, this unassuming celebration of anything, even a very ordinary fence, that might be nearing it's century birthday. It conveys national pride, and an innocently optimistic approach to life; I think I'm going to like the Kiwis.

Only once when in Asia did I feel genuine homesickness, and this is when I had food poisoning in Krabi and wanted my Mum to sit by my bed, stroke my hair and offer sympathetic condolences. When I was there, everything was so wonderfully alien that nothing reminded me of home for me to miss it. Here though, if you squint a bit and ignore the jauntily clipped cadences of the Antipodean accents, you could probably convince yourself that you are wandering around Canterbury, or Bristol. I worry that the similarities to home will render comparisons, and that these comparisons will make me ache for streets even more familiar.

I'm steeling myself against the shock though. The considered and rational minority of my brain tells me that this is a new phase in the Great Adventure, one to be embraced and treasured as much as any other day since I've been away. Asia - my new one true love - isn't going anywhere, and I've already promised it I'll be back soon. London has been my life's constant, we will have the majority of our middling years together. Africa and India and South America wait with baited breath for my arrival, I refuse to die without having seen and known them all intimately. My friends and family should know that my life without them, no matter in what environment it is played out, lacks all meaning and reason - they will be the reason for my return. Right now though, I couldn't get physically further away from home, I am 12 hours and half a world ahead of you, and I will endeavor to relish this time in these chilly recognisable streets, knowing that other things can wait. New Start, New Zealand.